


The Vanya Hargreeves Seminar on How To Be a Slightly More Functional Adult (aka Camp Seven)

by TheGirlWithTheGlasses



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: #letvanyaswear2k20, Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Gen, I am a SLUT for elliot page specifically Vanya, Platonic Cuddling, Sibling Bonding, Vanya-centric, ben is alive because i said so, here you go kids, something nice where everyone gets to rest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithTheGlasses/pseuds/TheGirlWithTheGlasses
Summary: (or, how Vanya will never, not ever have any hot water to herself again)(or, how everyone comes to realize there’s a new number one, even though they don’t really do that anymore)(it’s really how Vanya has a family now, one that heals slowly, but one just the same)
Relationships: Vanya Hargreeves & Everyone
Comments: 61
Kudos: 259
Collections: The Umbrella Academy





	1. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vanya acquires a ramshackle cabin, a collection of large sunglasses, a taste for coffee, and maybe a little of herself. It turns out to be easier than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s this. I really just wanted everyone to chill, get some rest, maybe some therapy. Please enjoy this “they got back to their 2019” AU.  
> TW for discussions of therapy and description of PTSD symptoms.

The story goes like this. There is little Seven and she is nothing. She is what she is. She is on the outside.

Seven has always been nothing. She is last because she is frustratingly ordinary. She always has been and she always will be. She learned to accept it a long time ago.

(she's only just learning exactly how much she can be)

***

  
**April**

On the first day of the rest of Vanya Hargreeves’ life, she does nothing.

She does not go to work. She does not eat, or sleep, or practice. She makes a point to not speak to or think about her siblings. Instead, she sits on her couch inside her apartment that doesn’t feel like home anymore. _Because he was in here_ , her mind whispers to her. _He touched everything_.

Vanya wonders if here has ever been home. The Academy certainly never was, and even though she had stayed with Sissy for a bit, that wasn’t either. Has she ever had a home?

That thought is almost too sad to stomach, though she doubts she could get nauseous again. After she’d gotten home from almost murdering 7.8 billion people in cold blood, she’d thrown up for around two hours. Now she just feels tired.

She can’t remember much about the previous day. Only collapsing after Five’s little time trauma and being carried out to the van and then back to the apartment. She woke up alone, or at least that’s what Five would have liked her to think. Vanya always noticed more than anyone thought she did.

The apocalypse has been averted multiple times, Vanya Hargreeves has world-shattering powers, and her siblings are now afraid of her instead of being uninterested. The void between them feels yawning.

What the hell does she do now?

For a while, she does nothing. She sits on the couch for almost nine hours and she stares blankly at the empty wall. There are no pictures on the walls, no photos of friends or family. She doesn’t even own a television. How sad is that? They never had one growing up either, so she’d never felt the need to have one in her own place.

And that’s when Vanya has her Big Personal Realization.

She doesn’t know who she is.

Everything in her mind, every decision she made, was dictated by her father. Not her.

He didn’t have a TV, so she didn’t have a TV. He said she had to stick with the violin to focus on something, so she played the violin, and now it was her job. The Academy had made her feel alone, so she had kept to herself and didn’t make any friends (until him, whispers that voice, and her. She pushes it away.) The damn pills. She’d drugged herself for fifteen years because he told her she had to.

“Fuck,” Vanya says out loud. It’s the first time she’s ever said it. Reginald had always detested swearing. “Fuck me. Okay. Well.”

A sudden bolt of energy zings through her body. She unplugs the landline, getting rid of all of Allison’s messages and the missed calls from the orchestra director. (She needs a cell phone. Or maybe not.) She grabs her keys and her purse and walks out the door.

Vanya hasn’t ever played hooky from anything. When they were kids, Klaus and Ben would sometimes sneak off from training. Of course, they had gotten yelled at every time, but the way Ben’s wide smile had lit up his face made her think of doing it herself. Naturally, she never actually went through with it until she left for good. Today, she does it for the first time.

Passing by the theater, she winces at the onslaught of memories flooding back. The white light, Allison’s gunshot behind her ear, the rest of the orchestra scattering. Too much at once. Instead of focusing on anything too much, she ducks into a store two doors down, breathing fast.

“May I help you, miss?,” a woman with perfectly coiffed red hair asks politely, gesturing around to displays of sunglasses.

No, Number Seven says in the back of her head, the desire to not want to cause anyone trouble persistently. Make yourself scarce.

“Actually,” she cuts in, making eye contact for the first time in awhile. “There might be something.”

***

  
Vanya sits at a Starbucks two blocks down. Her newly purchased bag of oversize sunglasses to hide her identity from anyone who saw something sits next to her chair. Being recognized now sounds like the worst thing to ever happen, and that includes almost destroying the world multiple times. She usually just gets a tea, but a large, whipped cream topped monstrosity is in her hand. Today is a day of many firsts.

Suddenly, a blue flash across the street catches her attention. Vanya hastens to pick up her stuff and go out the back door in case it is what she fears it is.

Breathing hard, she rests the back of her head against the wall. There’s a bulletin board across from her. Amid the thank you cards from a youth baseball team and an advertisement for an exterminator, there’s a small piece of paper. She anxiously looks both ways and shuffles across the small hallway to grab it.

The picture is of a cabin, painted a dark blue. The listing is a little desperate, slightly pleading and more whiny than anything else. The realtor claims it’s been on the market for over two years. It looks like there’s a hole in the roof and the lawn is intensely overgrown. Most importantly, it's away from everything else.

Vanya has never wanted something more in her entire life. The quiet is immensely tempting.

She’s avoided the entirety of her inheritance. It always felt wrong to use it. She wanted to stand on her own, and that meant abandoning every reminder of the Academy. But now, this seems like a good idea. A very good one. Could she really do this? Is she the type to upend her entire life on a whim? Pack everything and just-leave? Without telling anyone? She’d done it once before, but that had been an entirely different animal.

Instead of thinking about it more and spiraling, she gets a taxi home. Maybe she needs to stop thinking.

And so, twenty-four hours after she came two inches from ending the world (again), Vanya Hargreeves makes a cup of very strong green tea, plugs the godforsaken landline back in, and makes four phone calls. One to her landlord, to inform him she will be vacating her current living area within ten days. Another to quit her job. She leaves a message for Pogo, telling him she’ll finally be claiming her inheritance.

On the first day of the rest of her life, Vanya calls the first therapist on the list of ‘childhood trauma specialist’ and says, “I’d like to make an appointment, please.” She does not make the sentence sound like a question.

***

  
Sitting on the grass and weeds in front of her new home, Vanya writes “1. I like green olives on pizza” on the assignment sheet. Dr. Stan, her new therapist, had tried to get her to talk for forty-five minutes, then assigned her to use the time setting up her new place to get to know herself. The sheet reads “10 things I learned about me this week”. She's paying to be treated like a kindergartner.

She takes another bite and surveys her surroundings.

It only took three days to find someone to buy the apartment. The young woman who showed up to sign the papers at the closing ceremony reminded her of herself to a disturbing degree, down to the mousy hair and habit of staring at the ground. She’d had all her stuff packed up since the offer she’d made on the cabin had gone through. The realtor had sounded euphoric that someone had actually bought it.

The cabin itself is in even worse shape than Vanya had originally thought. The lake is green. The roof has a large hole in it. The only hint of it existing is a small arrow pointing down a dirt road practically hidden by the trees.

But the trees are lush and green. The sun shines through them just enough to warm her skin. And she is the proud new owner of the “Deja Blue”, according to the sign in the yard. It’s exactly what she needs right now.

Vanya closes her eyes and uses her contentment to summon the familiar jolt of power she needs to make a slight breeze whistle through her hair. She can't go too far yet, but this feels natural. This is something else that comes with the woods. She can teach herself bit by bit to control things, because she isn’t going back on the meds. She can’t now.

Satisfied, Vanya turns her attention back to her first assignment. She writes “2. My favorite color is blue”, because it is now. She never had one before, but it’s the shade of home.

As it often happens, her thoughts drift to her siblings. She hasn’t told any of them she moved, much less where she went. She wants it like that for now. Maybe that’ll change, but the solitude is something that feels like a long time coming. The strange sense of guilt is a testament to the asshole she called a father’s hold on her.

“Fuck you,” Vanya says aloud to the sky, intending it for him. It has a certain ring to it.

“That’s another one,” she mumbles, finding the pen on her makeshift picnic blanket and scrawling “3. ‘Fuck’ is a pretty good word.”

***

The next morning, Vanya knows she has to get realistic. She eats dry Cheerios out of the box and scrawls ‘to do’ on top of the only notebook she currently owns.

‘Patch roof’, she writes. ‘Mow lawn’. ‘Food’. She casts a look at the miserable state of the living room and writes, start looking for furniture. All of this will require going back into the city. ‘Car’ goes on the list too. Craigslist is going to become her best friend.

Vanya wraps herself in one of her most lifeless sweaters. Her wardrobe had always suited her. Now everything oddly feels a size too small.

Over the next few days, Vanya does what she can. She buys a lawnmower off of the nearest hardware store she can find with a pair of gardening gloves and spends eight hours digging weeds out of the mostly buried sidewalk. She pushes the mower up and down the lawn in swirls and whatever shape strikes her as appropriate. The effect is very mismatched. She loves it.

She doesn’t go out much out of fear of being discovered, by someone who recognizes her from that night or one of the others. When she does, it’s in the almost comically large sunglasses and sweater. She picks out a few paint chips on her forays into the city that could be options once she decides to paint, emerald greens, midnight blues, and light yellows, with some raspberry shades mixed in.

The newfound independence and isolation is wonderful. For the first time since Sissy, Vanya feels like she can breathe, like the weight suffocating her for thirty years has been lifted. She spends hours at the library reading anything she wants, like she used to do with Ben. She even starts to play a little, even though she has to stop the second she feels something start to wiggle. It's mostly scales, nothing much, but it feels good.

Sessions with Dr. Stan never get easier. The pace is intently slow, something she hadn't been expecting, forcing her to actually focus on her own feelings and consider her own actions intently. She hates it, but the 'coping strategies' list and the constant worksheets bring a sense of normalcy she never expected.

Vanya doesn't run into anyone for around three weeks, but her luck runs out when she makes an impromptu trip to get ice cream. Klaus, Luther, Five, and Diego, all arguing loudly, traipse in just as she's paying. She feels like an idiot when she ducks behind the Starbucks cup display, and the line at the checkout definitely sees her do it. 

(She informs Dr. Stan about that recent development. He gently suggests extending her weekly sessions by forty-five minutes.

***

  
The next morning, Vanya wakes up at eight. She makes the bed. She uses her new vacuum and does the whole house, getting all the cobwebs out of the corners. She showers and eats a bowl of cereal. It feels wonderfully functional. A light rain has fallen the night before, and the grass is dewy as she makes her way out to the woods. It’s a good morning for practice.

Listening for the twittering of the birds and a slight whistle of the wind through the branches of the trees, she reaches it. There’s a clearing with a close to a complete circle of large oaks, her favorite practice spot.

She takes a deep breath of the fresh air, hearing the twitter of a bird in a nearby bush. That's her starting point.

Focusing intently on the noise of the chirps, the sound starts to reverberate in her head. She hums an additional sort of tuneless note against the waves. 

The wind blows the two rightmost trees, which bend a little to the side. Eventually, the remainder of the trees start to dance, bending together in time with an invisible metronome.

Vanya spins on her toe, arms out. She feels like a kid. A few leaves fall into her hair. She doesn't brush them away. She adds the noise of a woodpecker a few yards away and the brush of her hands against her corduroys. A pile of leaves and sticks centrifuges into a tornado shape.

Finished, she relaxes onto the grass, staring up at the ceiling. Freedom pulsing through her veins, she laughs slightly and draws a flower shape in the air. 

***

  
It’s a stormy evening, one entirely too dramatic for what her nights look like nowadays. Gone are the days of confrontation or gnawing dread at something she can’t remember. Instead, she cooks something small for herself and settles on the couch to crack open a library book. Sometimes she paints her toenails. The cabin came with a large claw foot tub, the kind Klaus’ HGTV shows used to have on, so if she really feels like partying she’ll soak for a bit.

Thunderstorms, unfortunately, are one of the things she has a hard time with still. Dr. Stan claims the link will dissolve with time, but that doesn't really help when she's sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth slightly like how anxiety looks in movies.

She's spent hours going over every detail of the night she almost killed Allison. Every little twitch, every breath she took, every word she said. The noise of the slash across Allison's throat, oh god, the noise-

A sound that is decidedly not a slash comes from just outside the door. Vanya stills suddenly. Thunder booms in the background.

It sounds again, still close. She stiffens further. The Commission can be ruled out, considering she can take most of them and time hasn't stopped yet. Who can't be ruled out, however, are any of the others, who will want to immediately take her back and regulate her. She can't let that happen, she's made too much progress to go back again.

The third time she hears it, it's less like a shriek and more like a yowl. Of an animal.

Vanya quickly gets up and shuffles to the door, making sure not to step on any of the creaky floorboards. The peephole reveals nothing, so she takes a chance and whisks the door open, ready for whatever awaits her.

It's a cat.

It's soaked to the bone, its black and white fur hanging limply around its body. Its blue eyes meet hers and it emits another window-rattling yelp.

And what can she do? An outcast can never turn away another outcast. She scoops it up and brings it inside. “I guess I have a cat now,” she mumbles. “Okay.” 

***

  
Vanya names her new friend Domino (mask), because life has a sick sense of humor, so why the hell shouldn't she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr as @thegirlwiththeglasses-3. if you want to say hi! br />  
> I hope everyone is staying healthy and taking care of yourself, whatever that looks like for you.


	2. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vanya reconnects with the singular sibling she's on good terms with at the moment. Mostly because he was dead.  
> (As it turns out, that doesn't matter too much.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two. Thanks to everyone who left words of encouragement or kudos!! I am going to get this done as soon as I can for you. Enjoy this next bit of bonding and calm.

Maybe the story goes more like this. Seven is not little, and not nothing anymore. She has started to discover just how much she really is. She is still on the outside. Sometimes, late at night, she thinks she was meant to be alone forever.

(she was never meant to be alone)

*******

**May**

Vanya is the exact opposite of surprised that Ben is the first to find her. What she is surprised about is that Ben A) takes that long to find her and B) is alive.

It’s the same day her couch arrives. She’s thrilled with it. It’s worn out in the best way possible, comfortable and soft and hideously green (and larger than she’ll ever use, which is a trend these days that she doesn’t want to confront yet), but she picked it out herself. Everything in her new home is like that. Not particularly cohesive or updated, but all hers in a way she loves.

She’s just going back for her fourth bounce on the cushions when there’s a knock at the door. It’s hesitant, but it makes her jump anyway.

Realizing that someone found her, she steels herself for who could be on the other side. A Commission agent isn’t likely to knock, but just in case, she scans the room for something heavy she can fling, landing on a particularly heinous vase Allison gifted her almost ten christmases ago. Armed, Vanya takes a deep breath and starts towards the door, making sure to avoid the creaky boards. She needs to order one of those video doorbells.

Before she loses her nerve, she breathes in again, centralizes her apprehension to make the vase levitate and throws the door wide.

“Vanya!,” comes an alarmed shout. She stops the vase just in time to see-

“Ben?”

“Hi.” Ben Hargreeves stands on her steps, looking sheepish, hands in front of him so she can see he isn’t armed. “Did I scare you? Sorry.”

The surprise fades away to mostly apprehension. She tries to arch her neck around him to check if there’s others.

“I came alone. I-after what happened, I thought you would be better than everyone else.”

The thought strikes her a full ten seconds after it probably should have. “Are you-”

“Alive?,” he asks. “As far as I know, yeah.” Vanya extends a pointer finger and pokes Ben’s shoulder. It’s solid. She does it again. Still there.

“Should I like, prove that I bleed or something, like in Indiana Jones?” He isn’t able to say anything else, because she hurls herself forward into his arms. 

“You’re okay,” she pants. “Oh my god, you’re okay. How? How are you alive?”

“I don’t know,” he says back. “I don’t know. I was dead, and I think I met God? And she kicked me back here because I was annoying her? Did I imagine that Five killed JFK, or was that real?”

Vanya holds on tighter. Ben squeezes her just as hard. 

“I’m not sure he actually killed him, but there was definitely something weird happening.”

He laughs in her ear. “That’s the definition of our family. ‘Definitely something weird happening’.”

Just five minutes ago, Vanya had felt like she wanted to be alone for the rest of her life. Now she wonders why she’d ever thought that. It feels wonderful to bring Ben inside and show him around. She brews him a cup of tea in one of her new mugs and they sit on the green couch.

“It’s great,” he says earnestly. “It’s so you. I always thought that apartment was sucking the life out of you.”

She snorts. “My life was sucking the life out of me. After we got back I had to do something.”

A _prrrow_ sounds from under the couch, and the cat extracts herself from it. She’s covered in dust.

“This is Domino.” She picks the cat up and starts to shoo all the dust off her. Ben looks utterly enchanted and gestures for her. Domino meows urgently as she changes hands and then looks almost content as he scratches lightly behind her ears.

“Like the masks, right?,” he grins. “That’s brilliant.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says flippantly, giving him a wink. The corners of his lips twitch.

“Have you talked to anyone else?”

“No,” Vanya says flatly. “I wanted to be by myself. Still trying to work through almost killing billions of people twice.”

“We need so much therapy,” Ben sighs. “Someone needs to get a job with good insurance coverage.”

“I quit the orchestra, but the health credits were awful anyway. The inheritance is mostly paying for mine.” Her eyes fall to his midsection. Domino paws at his fingers. “Is the-”

“It’s still there,” he says shortly. “I can feel it. As soon as I woke up here, it was back. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

Vanya nods. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, so she asks instead, “do any of the others know you’re back?”

“Everyone," he says, rolling his eyes. "I came to at the Academy. They wouldn't leave me alone. I didn’t tell them I was going to see you and they don’t know where you’re hiding out.”

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” she says, choosing her words carefully and keeping the irritation out of her voice. “I just don’t want to be found.”

“I think I might want to hide,” Ben admits. “That probably makes me a coward. Do you ever have the feeling that you don’t want anyone to even look at you?”

“All the time,” she agrees. “After everything, it’s like they’re scared of me. Like I really am a bomb.”

“Yeah. And I died all over again, and I’m not attached to Klaus, and I don’t fall through walls anymore. And I know they’re scared of the Horror.” _I am too_ hangs in the air between them. “I didn’t want to stay there if they kept treating me like that.”

“Well,” Vanya starts. “If you don’t want to go back to the Academy, and you want to hide from everyone else, you could stay here. I have the room.”

"I couldn't impose," Ben demurs. "You've got your own place now and I'd never invade your space like that."

She thinks for a second and realizes that she’s not just trying to be nice, she really wants him to stay here. Already, in the fifteen minutes he’s been here, the cabin feels warmer. More full. She’s never lived with someone before, but Ben was always the nicest-(a therapy-focused voice whispers ‘don’t rely on the past’ in the back of her brain) and is the nicest now. They’re similar, too, and if anyone is likely to understand controlling her powers, it’s him. And in a moment that Dr. Stan would probably call growth, she decides to say it.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, really,” Vanya says honestly. “Please stay.”

***

The first challenge of living with a man who was previously dead for thirteen years, Vanya discovers, is that he no longer legally exists. That challenge lasts about two hours, because all they have to say is “we’re Reginald Hargreeves' children” to the Department of Home Affairs, and Ben’s status is magically changed to ‘alive’ and his history updated to ‘just came out of a coma’. They sit at a card table Vanya bought at a garage sale two weeks ago with rapidly cooling cups of coffee and make phone call after phone call.

“It’s strange not being with Klaus,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence they’ve lapsed into. She’s standing at the stove, making them grilled cheese and kind of burning it in the process (despite a long time of living by herself, cooking is not a skill she excels at).

“Like strange bad?” She flips a sandwich and pokes at the side of the pan.

“I got really used to him after over a decade. Not bad and not good. Just a weird distance.”

“Right. Well, if you wanted to call him, or get coffee-”

“That's normal. We were codependent out of necessity for over twelve years. It would be weird."

"Makes sense," says Vanya, trying to scrape a bit of burned cheese off.

“Maybe when I get used to being alive again. Did you have plans or anything? Rest of the day stuff?”

“I was thinking shopping,” Vanya says, accepting the smooth pivot away from the subject. “There’s something I want to look for, and I only have one of everything. You need a toothbrush, and you can’t live in that outfit forever.”

Ben nods sagely as she carries two plates over. There’s a bucket sitting on the floor catching the water that drips through the hole in the roof. Domino sits next to it and shortly hisses whenever the drop hits the surface.The card table is uneven and doesn’t sit right on the floor. 

“So what are we shopping for?,” he asks. 

“You’ll see.”

***

“Dear god,” says Ben as he wheels their purchase back to Carly the Craigslist car, “you weren’t joking that I’d see it, were you?”

“Nope,” Vanya agrees, almost skipping ahead of the cart, which is carrying a flat screen television set. “You can see that from ten feet away. Fuck you, Dad!”

“Fuck Dad and his weird-ass fear of TV,” Ben cheers. 

They load the box into the car, alongside Ben’s new toothbrush and set of pajamas. Laughing, Vanya swings around to the driver’s side with the keys and starts it. "Tonight we melt our brains," she declares. “What do we poison our minds with first, Jersey Shore or the Real Housewives?”

“Early 2000s rom coms,” he decides. “The wedding planner one.”

“Hell yeah," says Vanya. "Jennifer Lopez. And a new toothbrush. What a day."

***

At five-thirty, as Ben makes pasta on the stove (he’d been insistent that he could handle it), there’s a knock at the door. The UPS truck drops off a sizable package from Neiman Marcus. Inside is a striking magenta handbag with an astonishing amount of fringe. The gift receipt is not signed.

Vanya rolls her eyes and stows it in the closet. Klaus, whenever she sees him again, will probably appreciate the accent piece.

***

"Fuck the bike lane and everyone who's ever used it," says Ben, walking into the kitchen the next morning. He's still in his pajamas and dragging a drivers ed book and a copy of the Iliad with him.

"Drivers ed sounds great," Vanya comments from their newly Craigslisted kitchen table (again, made for a full family), where she's trying to stain it a dark cherry color. So far, all she's accomplished is staining her phone, her pants (which look kind of cool) , and most of her arm. One of Ben's newest hobbies, knitting, has yielded some useful headbands she's using to hold her hair back. (Also, weird little 2000s scarves she keeps gently hinting aren't really 'in' anymore.)

"How goes the job search?" He tosses the pile of books down onto the counter and rummages through the fridge.

"Bad," says Vanya, jamming her paintbrush into a corner. "I think everyone is a little shaken from the incident. When they find out I was there that night, they don't want to see me."

"That sucks."

"I'm not even sure I want to keep playing professionally," she confesses, turning her head from side to side. "Does this look even to you?"

"Not even close. "

"Shit, really?"

"I don't know anything about this, but I'm helping anyway," Ben declares, grabbing a paintbrush from the bag and easing himself down on the floor with his sleeve of crackers. "I can't wait until I have a license. Then I can get my own edibles."

"I already told you I don't mind getting them for you.”

"Vanya, I'm an adult, I want to buy my own weed," he jokes, almost spilling the stain. "We should move that."

“It could be my weed too,” she argues. “Possibly.”

“But we’re the scared ones. We can’t be the high ones too. That’s Klaus’ thing.”

“It’s more like ‘sober and mentally ill’ nowadays, we can steal his thing. He won’t mind.”

“Mentally ill is everyone. That’s not a thing.”

"Something else to thank Dad for."

Ben finishes the leg he's working on. "This looks terrible."

"Yeah," says Vanya. "But we're doing it. Give me one of those."

He carefully inserts a cracker into her mouth. 

"Can we paint my room blue?"

"Sounds good," she nods, trying to drip stain into a very specific place. "It might have to wait. After we finish this, I'm not painting for at least two months."

"Oh god, the fumes," Ben coughs. "Don't get that close to it. Bad idea. Why did you buy a table this big? Don't answer that, I know."

They work in silence for a good few minutes. 

"Do you remember when Dad made us repaint the kitchen after the food fight?"

"The Great Food Fight of '93," sighs Ben. "Good times. And no, I didn't forget. I still have the scar from Diego trying to hit Luther with a paint can."

"Do you miss them?," Vanya asks carefully, broaching a subject they've yet to really discuss.

"Yes but also no. I miss them. But-"

"Not the fighting and trying to prove they're the smartest."

"Yeah. Do you want to order lunch?"

"Please," she says, throwing the brush down, relieved both to have discussed a sensitive topic and not gotten too far into feelings territory. That's what therapy is for.

***

Vanya gets up at eight like usual on training day. She showers, dries her hair, and scrubs down the counters.

Normally, Ben would sleep a little later and find her in the clearing, waiting a safe distance away to watch her juggle a stick around in the air or make dandelion seeds float in patterns. Today, though, he’s been up since five and anxiously pacing.

After a lot of talking and a lot of considering possible outcomes, he’s agreed to train a bit with her for the first time. The Horror apparently doesn’t mind her presence. Aside from the Horror talking to Ben, something he’s never bothered to mention, she’s not sure if she should be flattered by an Eldritch monster liking her.

Either way, Ben is practically vibrating when she slips on her shoes and starts toward the door. 

They walk in silence to the clearing. Vanya notices Ben is wearing her sweater. (She can’t complain, she’s wearing his shirt). 

"Hey," she says, knocking her shoulder into his. "You don't have to. You can just watch."

"I want to," he assures her, "I'm worrying about hurting you."

"We won't go that far. It's only a little, and we can stop whenever you want."

The clearing surrounds them, and the birds chirp in the trees, just like every week. Vanya takes a deep breath and exhales, feeling the familiar pricks of power throughout her body. Her shoe squeaks on the grass, and she uses that to surround a yellow dandelion on the ground and gently separate it from its stem, whirling it upwards to her hand. She sweeps the grass in patterns with the wind. It's a bit like stretching her legs.

Behind her, Ben is silent. She doesn't dare to turn and see what he's doing, but when there's a thump on the ground, she whirls around to find Ben flat on the grass.

Concerned, she starts to say something, but Ben moves his hand, and a tentacle follows him. He starts to wave it back and forth, then tries to form an elaborate shadow puppet. Vanya lays next to him but not touching and starts to work on leaf patterns in the air. The sun is warm.

***

“I can explain,” Ben insists. “I swear.”

“Can you?,” she asks, glaring at him. “We had one errand to run. One.”

Ben is sitting in the middle of the cat room at the pet store. There is a small ginger kitten perched on his shoulder, purring deeply as it rubs its chin against Ben’s hand. 

“Look at that face!,” he protests. “I had to.”

Reluctantly, she reaches for the kitten and strokes down its back. The purr is resounding as it closes its eyes, pawing at the air. She can't help but feel slightly charmed.

"All right," Vanya says heavily, definitely caving way too fast. "If you're taking care of it. And we need a name."

"Five bucks says I think of one before you do."

"Whatever. We need paperwork. And a collar."

***

“Aslan,” says Ben, waving a copy of “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” triumphantly. “Suck it.”

Vanya groans and hands him five dollars. She knows when she’s beaten. The kitten somehow looks smug from Ben’s lap. Jersey Shore blasts from the TV. The rain patters on the roof. She closes her eyes slightly.

***

FedEx shows up twice. Vanya knows who the packages are from (another terrible vase and weird artisanal soap), but she signs them both up for Krav Maga and kickboxing anyway. Just in case someone’s running a long game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is @thegirlwiththeglasses-3. Come say hello!  
> Thank you for reading this and comments/kudos would be so lovely!  
> (Also, if anyone's heard anything about an S3 renewal, I'd love to know. I can't find anything by myself.) Be safe and well!


	3. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Luther, shockingly, attempts a reconciliation of his own, a trip to the too big museum is had, and Vanya appreciates Adam Sandler more and more every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Halloween for those of you who celebrate and happy all other fall time holidays!! Here's the next part. Thank you all so much for your support, it means the world to me. Enjoy!!

**June**

Really, though, the story goes like this. Number seven isn’t so little anymore. She is getting stronger and smarter and better by the day. She isn’t alone anymore now. Number six is with her. They are still scared of themselves, and what could happen if they lose the bits of tightly held control they have.

(There is one who has so much control he doesn’t know what to do with it. He could fit nicely.)

***

Ben slots into the life she’s built with a sense of absolute ease. They spend the bulk of their time getting to know each other again. They watch TV together, catching up on everything Ben’s missed and throwing popcorn across the couch. Sometimes they venture into the city and wander wherever they can, getting ice cream and visiting little knicknack shops. Ben likes to try to cook, and the results are usually interesting. He views it like an experiment, which ordinarily would bother her but seeing him so excited is enough to override that.

They have their bad days. Vanya has therapy with Dr. Stan on Friday afternoons, and she usually needs a few hours alone afterwards to process it, really out of habit more than anything. Ben is still adjusting to being by himself sometimes. They’re both scared of what could happen if they ever lose control. The Horror can be difficult to deal with sometimes, and whenever Vanya gets overwhelmed the dishes start to rattle, but they make it work.

To be building that relationship for the first time feels odd, but really nice. They make pasta and get flour all over the kitchen and Ben starts knitting scraggly strings of stitches for Domino to play with and they take evening jogs through the woods. 

And then, when Vanya comes home from her appointment on Friday, clutching yet another worksheet (“Five mental habits I want to work on”), there’s a car parked on the road. Her heart drops into her stomach. Shit. Through the front window, she can see Ben sitting on the couch. 

She mentally steels herself for whichever sibling figured it out, taking a few deep breaths. (That’s a good mental habit to work on, facing things instead of trying to avoid her problems.) She turns the key in the door and walks in.

“Vanya!,” Ben cheers. “How was Dr. Stan today?”

“In rare form,” she says drily, heading straight to the kitchen to check the mail. “He’s come to the conclusion that my childhood may have directly impacted my mental health.”

“That’s new. Luther, did you want some water or something?”

Sure enough, Luther sits in the corner of the room, uncomfortably wedged into a chair. Vanya makes a mental note to look into some wider furniture (again with the modifying the house for a family currently not in her life). Maybe if he’s here Luther does want to be.

“I’m okay.” His voice is hoarse. “Hey, Van.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“Okay. Sorry for coming by. I know you wanted to be alone.”

“I threw that overboard when he came back from the dead,” she nods to Ben. “Not so much being alone anymore. A lot of being alone together.”

They lapse into an awkward silence. Luther fidgets with the bottom of his turtleneck, which is a surprisingly good look for him. 

“Are you still at the Academy?,” Ben finally asks. 

At the same time, Luther says, “it’s weird you’re back.”

Another pause. 

“I’m still there. Thinking about finding a place of my own. Pogo and Mom can retire then, and we could always visit.”

“And it is weird, definitely. I can touch stuff all the time, and everyone can hear what I’m saying now. I’m still getting used to it.”

“It’s all weird,” Vanya says thoughtfully. “I almost destroyed the world twice, we lived in the sixties for awhile, Dad was an alien. Ben was a ghost for thirteen years. You have ape DNA.”

“A normal time for the Hargreeves family.”

Luther clears his throat nervously again. “So you’re in therapy now?”

“I thought I might as well try to undo what’s already happened before something else makes it worse.”

“I’ve been meaning to look.”

“Life’s hard,” Vanya agrees. “Ben, pizza tonight? I feel like it.” At his nod, she hops off the couch and shuffles off to retrieve her phone. 

“Should I assume you’re staying?,” she calls, snatching the stack of menus from the drawer for good measure. Radio silence. 

“Luther, do you want to stay for dinner?,” Ben translates slowly. “No pressure or anything.”

“Sure.”

While Vanya didn’t like the ‘I’m number one’ version of Luther, whatever is happening here is a step back. She remembers enough from the Academy to know she should leave it alone and let him process it for a bit. 

“Okay. I’ll call and order.”

“Sweet! I get the TV!,” Ben crows, throwing himself across the couch and grabbing for the remote.

“Fine. No more Grease,” she tosses over her shoulder on her way into the kitchen. 

“Grease is the film of a generation and a masterpiece, thank you,” he huffs. “But no, I’m going to let our brother pick because Mom raised me to be a good host.”

Thirty seconds later, “Grease is the Word” starts to play. Phone pressed to her ear, she raises an eyebrow at Luther, who is sort of tilting his shoulders side to side to the beat. She can’t help the grin that comes over her face. 

***

Vanya can’t deny she’s a little surprised when Luther shows up a second time the next morning. Not because he’s trying, but because it’s him trying. 

“Hey,” says Ben, sort of bemused as he opens the door and ushers him in. “Morning. Vanya, Luther’s here!,” he calls back into the kitchen. 

“Mmph,” says Vanya, head flat on the table (again, much larger than she and Ben can ever use). Yet another thing she’s learned about herself is that she hates mornings. The words ‘Luther’s here’ bounce around in her brain for a few seconds before it fully registers. 

Sure enough, carrying a grocery bag and one of those cardboard trays with coffee in it, their oldest brother walks into the room. 

“Hi. Uh, how are you? I brought stuff.”

Ben, standing on his tiptoes to snag the box of Lucky Charms out of the high cabinet, abandons his search for sugared cardboard when he catches sight of the coffee. “Carbs,” he grins, sliding into the chair next to Vanya and resting his head on her shoulder for a minute.

After being alone for almost seventeen years, Ben’s like a cat. He seeks out contact wherever he can. Movie night inevitably ends up with him in her lap, or he links their elbows together when they walk somewhere. She’s gotten used to it by now.

"So have you seen anyone else lately?," Luther starts, gently pushing a cup towards Vanya.

"This feels loaded," Ben comments. "Why?"

"Just asking. I haven't seen much of anyone since we got back. You're the first ones."

"Don't you and Five live at the Academy?," asks Vanya, sipping from the cup. It's something vaguely sweet and somehow also spicy. It's great. "And Klaus goes back there sometimes."

"Five doesn't come out of his room between six and ten, Klaus hasn't visited since we got back from the sixties, Allison hasn't called, and I didn't know where you were until yesterday," Luther answers heavily. He stares at the floor. "I-I guess I was kind of tired of only ever talking to Mom."

"Aw, did you miss us?," Ben teases. "Did you?"

"I seem to recall someone almost crying because he missed all of us so much."

"Ghost tears don't count," he singsongs. "Nobody saw them but Klaus, and if he doesn't want me talking about that time he-"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"Yeah, probably shouldn't. What's in this?"

"Cinnamon," says Luther. "Sorry if you don't like it."

Both Vanya and Ben make vague sounds that sound like 'no'.

"And stop apologizing. You've done that once in your life and we don't want you bursting a blood vessel. Are those bagels?"

"Definitely not," says Luther, passing the bag of bagels over. "And I'll stop saying sorry. I was just lonely."

"Well, you brought a bribe, so that's a step. Bribes are always welcome here."

"This is a bribe friendly environment," Vanya agrees. "So did you want to hang out here today, or-"

"Please," he says immediately. "I mean, unless you had something to do?"

"Just hanging around," Ben shrugs. "Doing whatever we want. We do that a lot. And it can be done with three people."

"Cool," Luther nods. "What's first?"

"Breakfast. Not in silence. What do you want to do today?"

"I read online that crafts help with self expression, so we should go get a bunch of glue and shit and make something. I want sequins."

"Random crafts," Vanya nods. "Good. We can do that. Let's see. We need toothpaste and paper towels."

Domino alights herself on the chair nearest to Luther. Tail flicking back and forth, she stares him up and down, then carefully steps onto his lap and presents her head for scratchings. Luther looks down at her, bemused, then gently strokes her a few times.

“I think if we put you on one side, and Ben, you sit on the other side with me, we should fit in the car.”

“Am I in the back?,” Ben whines. “Vanya!”

“Sequins," says Vanya. "Think about the sequins. Get your coat, we're going to Target. Again."

***

“This is literally day camp,” says Vanya, adding another layer of Mod Podge. “This is arts and crafts and snack time. Why am I enjoying day camp? I’m not eight years old.”

“It’s a creative release,” says Ben, joyfully digging into the sequin bag and sorting the blue ones out. “We’re expressing ourselves. And no, it’s not day camp.”

“There are apple slices,” Luther counters. “This is snack time.”

“How do you know? You never went to day camp. None of us did, because we grew up in basic training.”

“They have snack time at basic training.”

“Not apple slices snack time, and I’m fairly sure arts and crafts is not a thing in the military.”

“And you haven’t been in the military.”

“Can you imagine Dad having us do arts and crafts as kids?,” Ben says, effectively ending that day's dumbest argument ever.

"He'd make you paint battle plans or molecules and I wouldn't have been allowed to participate," Vanya says. "It would have been the worst. What is that?"

Over on Luther’s side of the table is a glue-coated vaguely spherical monstrosity. “It’s supposed to be the moon,” he offers feebly. Part of it falls off. 

“I kind of like it.” Ben carefully places his sequins on his paper one at a time. “It says ‘abstract cubism’ and ‘rogue first grader with glue’. It’s a vibe.”

“Yeah, that's what I was going for. I should probably just throw it away, it looks stupid."

“You could smash it,” she says thoughtfully, “or we could hang it up somewhere. It might look nice in the kitchen. Like, over the sink?”

“We could make a solar system. With Pluto, because it is a planet."

“Pluto’s a little bitch. It can’t decide if it wants to be a planet or not.”

“That’s gendered language,” says Luther immediately. “Don’t use that.”

Silence. Vanya can feel herself stare.

“What?”

“Since when are you an expert on feminist terminology?”

“Uh," says Luther. "I kind of took a class? And I did a lot of googling after we got back.I just-I saw what people thought about you and Klaus, and the stuff they said about Allison and Diego.”

“You took a class,” Ben repeats. 

“Yeah. I’m shitty at being a brother, so I was trying to be not as shitty? I think?”

“Oh.” Vanya nods slightly. “Okay.” She makes eye contact with Ben behind Luther’s back. He mouths,  _ What? _

“I’m done!,” Ben holds up his paper. “I made a peacock. The sequins are the feathers.”

“Amazing," she comments. "I drew a bunch of marker lines. It's abstract. And then I covered it in glue. I don't know why."

"Cool," Luther says awkwardly.

"Ben, get the string so we can hang it up. I'll get the stepladder."

Vanya spends the afternoon teetering on an uneven stepladder held in place by her previously dead brother, attempting to hang up a craft made by her brother with ape DNA. It's a decently normal time.

***

Following the craft day, Luther keeps coming. Vanya doesn't mind. Neither does Ben. They watch dumb TV and yell about nothing. Luther stays over on the couch more often than not. It starts to feel very odd when he's not there. The moon reports sit on the counter, and a steadily increasing stack of shirts and sweatpants accumulates in one of the empty armoires. Domino loves him. The tinges of awkwardness slowly disappear, but since it's Luther, it never entirely goes away. And it tends to come out in the most mundane of conversations.

“Hello?,” says Luther over the phone.

“Hey,” says Vanya. “It’s me. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” he admits. “Just cleaning and talking to Mom again."

“Okay, well, do you want to go to the museum tomorrow morning? With me and Ben. There’s stuff about space and dinosaurs.”

“Uh, yeah. That sounds fun.”

“Cool,” she says, fidgeting with her necklace. “See you then. Bye, Luther.”

“Bye,” he says. The line clicks. The awkwardness remains.

***

“Can I put my lip balm in your purse?,” says Ben, poking his head around the wall. “Chapped lips make me wish I was still dead.”

“Yeah, put it in the little pocket on the inside.” Vanya finishes packing a box of granola bars and moves to take a sip from her mug. “Mine’s in there too. Should we write initials on them or do you think it’s fine?”

“It’s okay. Your germs are my germs.”

“That’s definitely not how it works, but okay.”

There’s a knock at the door. Vanya slides the snacks into the bag and yells, “it’s open, Luther!”

“Did you get the pretzels?,” asks Ben, sorting through the stuff in the bag. “It’s very important to me that you got the pretzels.”

“Yeah, I got them. Hey,” she greets Luther, who is dressed in what she now understands to be his ‘going out’ overcoat. “Ready?”

“I don’t see them in here.” He continues to dig through snacks. 

“I’m ready. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Course,” she says heavily, finishing off the coffee. They need a better machine, the one they have sucks. “We’re already late. Ben, why are you taking everything out?”

“Because the pretzels aren’t in here, and I wanted to make sure they were.”

“They’re right here.” He picks a yellow bag out of the mess. “This is definitely twenty years of Klaus coming out.”

“Whatever,” Ben rolls his eyes to cover his smile. “Let’s go. I want to see dinosaurs.”

“And I want half-decent coffee, so we're stopping on the way." Vanya turns to pick up her purse, only to find Luther awkwardly holding it up for her. "Thanks."

“Uh, I got you another one. Ben, yours is the one that’s ridiculously sweet.” He's offering another tray of lattes, and they're more than willing to accept the bribe. 

They get in the car. It's still early enough to be a little foggy and sleepy outside. Ben fiddles with the radio until he finds a station playing Depeche Mode. He nods in satisfaction. Vanya sips her coffee and merges onto the highway. Luther quietly stares out the window and brushes the sleeves of his coat together in a rhythm.

***

"Why are there so many kids?," Luther asks, looking over his shoulder warily.

"I mean, it is a museum on a Wednesday," Ben points out. "I may have been dead for over a decade, but field trips are still a thing, right?"-

A group of schoolkids pass them. They all openly ogle Luther and twitter to each other.

"Whatever," Vanya says, leading the way. “We’re here to see some dinosaurs. Just walk around the children.”

"We're easily the oldest people here without kids. 

"Uh, adults can like science too. Science is great."

"Can we watch Adam Sandler movies tonight?," says Ben, continuing to wander slightly behind them. "I think we turn right up here."

"Duh," says Vanya. "Fossils and terrible experiments first, then Adam Sandler. As it should be. And I think it's left. Why are museums so big?"

***

“What was it like?,” Vanya asks, coming to stand beside him and look at the model of the moon. Ben is still busy in the dinosaur exhibit.

“Beautiful,” Luther says hoarsely. “It was beautiful and I loved it.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No. Not anymore. Was too lonely.”

“I’m sorry he did it to you,” she says quietly. “Sending you there and the injection. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. About what he did to you. And for what I did. That's unforgivable."

“It’s okay,” she sighs. “The brainwashing, I get it. It still sucked, but I get it.”

They fall silent and watch the model rotate once more. 

"I want to do better. I'm trying."

"I know. I am too."

They stand and watch the moon. Vanya lets her shoulder touch his slightly. 

"It's not unforgivable," she says. "It just might take some time."

***

Vanya blinks lazily. She’s staring up at the ceiling and is very warm.

“Ben,” she hisses. “Wake up.” Her brother is out cold on one side of her. She twists her neck to find Luther, also passed out.

Ben groans and flips over onto his other side. “Five more minutes.”

“We fell asleep. It’s after ten.”

“What time is it?,” Luther’s slightly slurred voice sounds. “Looks late.”

“It is. Adam Sandler made us tired."

“‘M not moving,” Ben yawns and puts his head back on her shoulder. “Shhh.”

“I should go,” Luther says, making a move to get up and abandoning it halfway through.

Vanya maneuvers herself so she’s half on the couch and half on Ben. "No, the roads are a nightmare in the dark. There's no lights for miles."

There's a flash of lightning through the window. A low rumble of thunder suggests a storm is on the horizon.

"And it sounds like it's getting bad out there. You should maybe just...stay?"

"Uh, okay. It seems safer to wait til morning."

"I'll get the blankets from my room, Vanya, you get yours, we'll meet back here as soon as we're done. I'll get you a toothbrush, Luther. Okay, break!"

Ben rushes off to, presumably, find an extra toothbrush and grab every blanket he's hiding in his room. Which is probably a lot. Vanya begrudgingly sits up.

"I guess I'm getting blankets too," she croaks, rubbing her left eye. "You can take the couch if you want it." The toothbrush is tossed from the bathroom door into the living room.

Thunder cracks again. The familiar panic starts to well in her throat as Luther heads towards Ben's room, past the table covered with moon reports.

Vanya splashes some water on her face. Allison’s screams echo. She brushes her teeth and gathers her hair into a ponytail. “I just want to help you!” She takes a few deep breaths and grabs the duvet from her bed.

Back in the living room, Ben is busily arranging an amalgamation of pillows on the floor. The coffee table has been moved against the wall. Aslan, as usual, rests on his shoulder and mews curiously as he spreads out a new blanket, folding the end up slightly.

“Sleepover style," he grins, flopping down in the center of the floor and making a snow angel in the carpeting. "Like we're eleven again. The childhood we never had." Luther, already passed out again and slumped against the couch, snores slightly. 

Vanya wakes up again at three with both the cats on her chest, Ben curled into her side, and her head against Luther's leg. The thunderstorm continues. Vanya, warm and surprisingly comfortable, goes back to sleep.

***

Some days, there are still little reminders that she doesn't really know her siblings yet. They're not always unpleasant, though,

"I'm back," Vanya calls as she shuts the door behind her and toes off her shoes. "Luther, they didn't have the all blue Jolly Ranchers so I got the sour ones, okay?"

"Those are good!,” Luther calls back. Ben jumps off the couch, hurries toward her, and proceeds to dig through a bag until he finds a package of grapes and heads off to the kitchen with them, evidently pleased. 

Something smells good. Usually, if Ben is cooking, it's tinged with a little burned, maybe an odd undercurrent of sweetness. But it's rich and tomatoey. She heads to the kitchen to get to the bottom of it. 

Ben is sitting at the counter, munching on his grapes happily and watching Luther stir something on the stove. 

"But The Odyssey is so dumb because he's dumb and he makes dumb choices," he continues. "And The Iliad is basic."

"All of those words confuse me," says Luther. "But I agree with you."

"What are you making?," she asks, setting the bags down. "Smells nice."

"I'm making sauce to go with Ben's pasta, because he claims he's not to be trusted. I believe it."

"No, it's true." Vanya regards the pot with an air of suspicion. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Uh, yeah, I taught myself when we were still in the 60s," he says nonchalantly. "Kept doing it when we got back. It's kind of calming."

Vanya closes her eyes and takes the proffered spoon, tasting it. It's salty and peppery and some kind of herby. "That's really good," she grins. "Never knew you could do that."

"It's my secret talent."

"Your Canned Heat moment," Ben jokes, not pausing the grapes at all. "I'll show myself out."

They eat pasta and sauce at the end of the big table. It's dark and windy outside. The cats sleep under the table and occasionally paw at someone's ankle, just to make sure everyone knows they're still there. Luther makes some crack about Vanya's taste in sweaters and she punches him lightly in the shoulder. Ben keeps the books close but never opens them. They fall asleep on the couch again during some trite show about modern fairy tale characters. Vanya sleeps through the night again.

***

“So are you all moved in now?,” Vanya asks, shifting her weight to her other foot. It's training day, and her shorts aren't quite enough to keep her warm. She carefully maneuvers a branch around a bird's nest and brings it back down to the ground.

“What?”

“Unless you had more stuff?"

“Sorry, uh,” Luther coughs slightly. “Moved in?”

“Yeah. Ben said he’s not giving up the couch, so you’ll have to take the other room. Okay?”

“Sorry,” he says again. “Moved in?”

“You hardly ever leave,” Vanya points out. “You have your own closet. All the moon stuff is here. And it’s nice having you around.”

“So?”

“So what do you think about getting out of the Academy? For good this time?”

Luther tilts his head up to look at Ben’s progress in the tree, where he's practicing climbing with the Horror. He's holding half a log in each hand and doing bicep curls. 

“I’ll get the rest of my clothes after he comes down,” he says at last. “It’s just a few shirts. And Vanya?” Vanya tears her gaze away from how perilously high Ben and the tentacles are getting to make eye contact for a second. “What?”

“Thanks,” he says seriously. Ben falls six feet onto another branch and curses very colorfully.

***

The next day, the Amazon Prime van drops off an ocean patterned shower curtain, a copy of "The Martian", and a painting of the moon. It’s still annoying, but Vanya has to admit it’s accurate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kudos fuel me. Tumblr is @thegirlwiththeglasses-3. Much love, stay healthy and well.


	4. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Luther is surprisingly perceptive, Five is very slowly getting better, and who doesn't love a good game of Scrabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile. I'm so sorry this is so late, I had finals and then the holidays happened and then work got crazy. Thanks so very much for your kind words, they kept me going. Enjoy the next part!!
> 
> **Also please note-currently, I will be keeping Vanya's pronouns to she/her/hers because the character is a female. Elliot Page, the actor who portrays Vanya, uses he/they pronouns, and if the show changes Vanya's gender identity to match this, I will change the character's pronouns in this fic accordingly.**

**July**

For real this time, the story goes like this. Seven, six, and one are a strange but functional trio. They learn, they teach each other, they press on sore spots just enough. And yet, they are still missing pieces. 

(one more of the missing pieces is waiting to fall back into place, he just isn’t sure if he can fit like he used to)

***

“Thinking you could hide from me was pointless and honestly, kind of insulting, considering your combined amount of intelligence is lower than a squirrel’s,” says Five, owlishly blinking up at her. It’s five-thirty am.

“Okay,” Vanya agrees, still shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. “Did you want to come in?”

Five considers his options. “Fine,” he grouches, blinking into the house. 

Inside, Luther, who is of course a morning person, is already up. Ben is nowhere to be seen.

“So this is where you went off to,” comments Five. 

Luther barely suppresses an eye roll. “You noticed.”   
  


Five says nothing. He seems to be taking in the state of the room, which Vanya is realizing has changed a lot since she moved in.

Luther’s moon, along with the rest of their solar system they’ve made during craft time, hangs above the sink. Books are stacked on almost every available surface. The movie list they made, mostly full of awful 2000s films, hangs on the fridge. The effect is pleasantly cluttered. It looks lived in.

Vanya slides onto a chair at the counter and leans over to see what Luther’s working on for breakfast. Five, still dressed in that god-awful Academy uniform and looking slightly less annoyed than when he first arrived, follows suit. Or at least as neutral as Five can look.

“I wanted strawberries,” says Luther, continuing to mix. “Also, Ben said my pancakes were dry and that’s unacceptable.” The bowl looks comically small in his hands.

“Ben said?,” Five trails off. “Ben’s...here?”

And then Vanya realizes for probably the first time ever just how isolated time travel has made their brother. 

At that exact moment, Ben wanders into the kitchen in his ridiculous fuzzy socks. “Why’d you wake me up?,” he mumbles, leaning against the refrigerator. “I accept apologies in the form of whipped cream.”   
  


Five makes a strangled noise as he takes in the appearance of another sibling he presumed to be dead. “Ben?”

He squints in the light. “Five? How’d you find us?”

“Luther isn’t half as subtle as he thinks he is,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, previous emotion absolutely buried.    
  


“Hey!” Luther points his spatula at all three of them. “Do you want to eat or not?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Vanya protests. “Shhhh. Take weird shots at each other later, pancakes now.”   
  


“It’s good to see you,” Five continues as if absolutely nothing happened. “How’d you get back?”   
  


“Long story. God thought I was annoying and kicked me back here.”   
  


Five nods as if that’s a completely rational explanation. She supposes weirder stuff has happened to them.

“Anyway,” Luther says conversationally. “How are you, Five?”

“Fine,” he says, eyeing him suspiciously. “So you’re all...living together now?”

“Yeah,” says Vanya, reaching up to grab four plates from the stack in the cupboard. “We are.”

Whatever else Five was going to say dies on his lips and he presses his lips into a thin line. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting an answer. 

“I’m shocked you’ve survived this long on your own.”

Luther, irritated but used to it at this point, makes a face and pushes past him to grab things out of the fridge. 

“I think we do pretty well when there’s not an impending threat to humanity,” says Ben. “Also, no time traveling assassins have shown up yet. Chance of survival goes up exponentially.”

Five blinks twice. “You’re chattier than I remember.”   
  


“Yeah, when you spend fifteen years with no one to talk to but yourself and a dude so into heroin he can’t remember his own name you want to talk a little more.”

“And more sarcastic,” he mutters, following them to the table.

Luther rolls his eyes. Vanya starts to get slightly concerned about the possibility of a fight, but then she catches sight of the jar of marshmallow fluff he’s placed on the table. She relaxes. 

Five never specifically asked to stay, but he tosses himself onto the chair and scoots up to the table. He’s chosen a place somehow directly in the middle between Vanya and Ben. The three empty spots feel less obvious. 

“So what the hell did you do to this place?,” he remarks, staring around the room. “It looks like a hurricane came through here.”

“It’s pleasantly cluttered, thank you very much,” Ben says. “It’s lived in. Or, you could write on the walls, if you want to complete the effect?”

“I’ll pass,” he says in a tone that seems to suggest a nerve has been touched. Vanya shoots him a warning look and turns back to Five to smooth over the possible fight brewing.

Instead, Five is neutrally accepting a plate of pancakes from Luther. Ben looks confused. She kind of is too. 

The pancakes are good though. They sit, an odd combination, and eat in the earliest hours of the morning. The sun is rising. The cats sleep. It’s a moment of peace that lasts for awhile.

***

“You’re out of hot water,” says Five, strolling into the living room to find Vanya and Luther in a spirited debate regarding whether Darth Vader redeemed himself in the end. “Just so you’re aware.”

“Okay,” says Luther. “Also, when did you get here? And how did you get in?”   
  


He shrugs. “Just popped over. I was annoyed with Mom asking me if I wanted muffins every three minutes. You are also annoying, but I figured you’d be smart enough to leave me alone.”

“You screwed up the shower routine. Ben’ll be pissed,” Vanya comments. She decides not to comment on the unscheduled visit, remembering all the times he showed up unannounced at her apartment. Aslan meows loudly and pointedly rubs his head against Five’s leg.

“He’ll deal with it.” He reaches down and awkwardly pats the cat, who seems kind of pleased. 

“Sure. Why are you still wearing that, by the way?”

“Nostalgia,” Five deadpans, self-consciously pulling on the hem of his Academy uniform. “Is there somewhere I can work?”

“Yeah, take the spare room.”

A shriek comes from the bathroom, indicating that Ben has discovered the lack of hot water. Luther rolls his eyes. Lightsaber sounds come from the TV.

“So you want to hang out here?”   
  


“Does senility set in this early? Yes, I thought that was obvious.”

Ben storms in, practically vibrating with righteous fury. “It’s so cold! What the hell! I thought we agreed on-good morning, Five-all the showering times! It’s my time!”   
  


“Think about it,” says Vanya. “Also, do you think Darth Vader really redeemed himself?”   
  


“He did. Seriously, who stole my specifically assigned shower time?”   
  


“I’m not saying anything, but I would maybe look at the only person in the room with visibly wet hair,” says Luther, specifically avoiding making eye contact with Five. Furious, Ben turns to him and glares.

“Snitch,” mutters Five. “Sorry. I didn’t know about the ‘shower schedule’.”   
  


“I’ll work you in,” says Vanya, poorly concealing her shock at Five apologizing for something. “We can rearrange stuff. I don’t care when I go.”

“It was so cold.”   
  


“Did you miss showers?,” Five asks. “You know, when you were still dead.”   
  


“More than anything,” he sighs. “Hot water and Starbucks Frappuccinos are the best things in the world.”

“Those are good.”

Ben slumps down onto the couch. “No point now. I’m cold. Where’s my blanket?”

“Here.” Luther shoves it at him. “You didn’t dry off?”

“Forgot,” he mutters, already kind of drowsy even though he just sat down. Ben is always exhausted and always wants to nap. Probably a weird side effect from coming back from the dead. 

“And now the entire left side of my shirt is wet. Perfect. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He rests his head on Vanya’s shoulder.

Five watches the interaction with a strange look on his face. It’s not condescending or irritated, it’s sort of vaguely confused. 

“Just look for the room without all the stuff in it. It should be pretty clean.”

He nods, still standing there and watching them goggle eyed, then all at once rushes out of the room. There’s no pop. Vanya focuses on the fight between Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine.

***

Five comes every morning. He stays all day, and he leaves before dinner. He brings an endless amount of notebooks, textbooks, and loose papers. He often loses his pens. He almost never emerges from the room, and he pretends to dislike the cats. Vanya knows that’s a lie, though, because she once caught a glimpse of him carrying Domino around and telling her about quantum physics and time. 

Unlike the other two, Vanya has to work a little harder to figure out how to bridge the gap with him. She learns that while Five forgets to eat and bristles if anyone reminds him, leaving snacks in his pockets and outside the door will sometimes work. He likes sweet things, like sickly sweet, and, oddly, celery and peanut butter. 

Additionally, working with Five is markedly more difficult because Five has no interest in acknowledging that he has any issues at all. Ben is slowly reintegrating himself with the living world and Luther is now also seeing a therapist, but Five’s particular aversion to touchy-feely anything is challenging. 

As per Dr. Stan’s orders, Vanya tries her best to meet him where he is. She leaves snacks outside his door, never meals. Lots of coffee. She pretends not to hear him think out loud. She pretends not to notice the deep bags under his eyes nor the deep scar on his arm nor the extensive bloodstains on his uniform.

She reworks the shower schedule and even color codes it. Blue for Luther, a dark green for Five, purple for herself, and red for Ben. It’s anchored to the fridge by the weakest magnet ever. Ben bitches about picking it up off the floor whenever it falls, but he does it anyway. 

They find a comfortable routine. The schedule is followed, the terrible coffee is drunk, and Five pops out of the cabin to wherever he goes when he leaves in the evening. Things always feel a little emptier when he’s gone.

***

About two weeks after Five starts coming, the Scrabble board materializes.

It sits on the kitchen counter, sets of letters neatly propped next to it in their little wooden trays. No one acknowledges it. Ben will sometimes absentmindedly sort through them while he’s reading, or having a conversation with someone.

It’s clearly old enough, considering the tiles have real weight to them and the sheen of dust that covers the board.

Nobody ever mentions where they got it. And maybe more importantly, nobody ever confesses to playing it.

One morning, Vanya walks past the board and does a double take. Spelled out directly in the middle is “DOUCHECANOE”. She carefully replenishes the letters and waits for the next turn.

***

“Can I ask why this is happening or would that be considered rude?,” asks Vanya, walking into the living room from her morning jog. The air is summery and hot. It’s too early to be humid or sticky yet. 

Ben, holding a tape measure, and Luther, holding a struggling and disgruntled looking Five, both turn to look at her.

“He needs other clothes. There’s blood on these and he has no others. So we’re measuring him because he won’t go shopping with us.”

That, surprisingly, actually makes sense. Vanya decides not to interrupt and heads to the kitchen. The shower schedule is on the floor. Someone has played “WHIPPERSNAPPER” on the Scrabble board. 

She grabs a granola bar and heads out to see Ben measuring Five’s height. He jots it down on the waiting notepad. Five looks annoyed, but it’s clearly not bothering him too much considering he hasn’t warped away yet.

“What exactly are you convinced I need?,” he demands of all of them. 

  
“Clothes that aren’t from the 90s,” says Ben. “A swimsuit. It’s summer. I want to have a water war before it’s fall.”

“Sweatpants will literally change your life,” says Luther, holding his arms over his head so Ben can measure his torso. “And sleeping in that is a no-go.”   
  


“You don’t have pajamas?,” asks Vanya, feeling a little shocked.

“We were stuck in the 1960s for an indiscriminate amount of time and before that I was a time traveling assassin. No, I haven’t had time to shop for sleepwear.”

“I’m going to get you race car pajamas,” says Ben. “You’ll be the coolest eighth grader around.”   
  


Five’s face darkens. “Shut up,” he spits, crossing his arms as best he can. 

“Eighth graders aren’t fifteen.”

“You know what, Luther, I don’t-”

“I’m stopping you there,” says Vanya, cutting off the undoubtedly stupid squabble that was undoubtedly about to occur. “Five, stand still for a few minutes. You already refused to go shopping, you have to cooperate a little.”

He sighs deeply and throws his hands out to the sides so Ben can measure. “Are you actually going to get me race car pajamas?”

“No, I’m gonna get you a Scrooge nightgown and a sleep hat because you’re that old.”

Five glares. “Maybe I should bury you alive. That would be hilarious.”

“At least I’m not wearing that in the 21st century. Eighties Tom Selleck called, he wants his shorts back.”

Normally, Vanya would be concerned about the possibility of a serious fight, the kind where injuries would be caused and medical attention would be necessary. But they both seem lighter. Ben looks almost mischievous. She relaxes as they go back and forth.

***

“Welcome to the ‘let’s help Five’ meeting,” announces Ben, sitting at the kitchen counter. Startled, Luther shuts the fridge a little harder than he meant to. The shower schedule falls onto the floor.

Vanya looks up from her copy of The Great Gatsby. “Meeting? Is this official?”   
  


“It is now.”   
  


“Okay,” says Luther, carrying yogurt and a spoon over to sit with Ben. “Why do we need to have a meeting?”

“Because he clearly needs help,” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Are you blind?”

“He doesn’t seem more or less different,” Vanya concludes. “Still prickly, still upset about everything and somehow also nothing, still working. You think something’s wrong with him?”

“He doesn’t sleep. Or eat meals.”

“Did he ever?”   
  


“Kind of,” Luther ponders. “I don’t remember.”

“Still,” Ben insists. “He’s our brother. Everyone needs to sleep and eat. Especially people who are physically fifteen. And all he does is work. What is he even working on? I thought the apocalypse was over.”

“I’ve noticed it too,” Vanya admits. “The eye bags and the scars.”

“Five has never taken being told what to do well. If we tell him we’re concerned, he’s going to run and never come back.”

“Which is bad.”   
  


“Yeah, Ben, it’s not good.”

“And he never wants to listen to anyone because he thinks he’s right all the time.”

They fall silent, all thinking about the same thing.

“So hypothetically, if we wanted to help him, we would have to trick him into doing it himself,” Luther puzzles out slowly.

“Who says we can’t?,” asks Vanya. She has an inkling of an unorthodox thought that just might work.

***

Phase one of “forcing Five to take care of himself’ officially goes into effect the next day.

“Remind me again why you think this is necessary?,” says Five, sitting stiffly on the couch.

“Because,” Ben says, “you’re culturally deprived. It’s a real thing. I read about it.” He’s sprawled across the floor, leaning against both Vanya and Luther’s legs.

“What makes you think I’m culturally deprived?”

  
Luther makes an ‘are-you-kidding’ face. Vanya elbows him.

  
“It’s a movie. It’s not a weeklong commitment. Also, the shorts went out of style a long time ago.”

“And you’re forcing me to watch what?” Ben points at the TV. Five considers it for a second, then scowls and folds his arms across his chest. 

“This is ridiculous. Fine.”

Halfway through  _ Shrek _ , also known as Ben’s newest favorite movie of all time, Vanya notices Five’s eyelids starting to droop a little. He snaps himself awake a few times. Good. The plan is working.

Now, onto step two. Ben moves the blanket half onto Five and half onto him. Five tenses slightly but doesn’t shy away. His eyes close entirely. Luther turns down the volume on the movie.

About ten minutes later, his head lolls to the side onto her shoulder. She turns to find her brother is completely passed out.

_ Sleepover _ , Ben mouths, grinning. Vanya shrugs, the weight of their brother almost entirely on her. Five is dead to the world. She wonders, not for the first time, how long it’s been since he slept.

They end up in a position that is becoming more and more common-all on the living room floor. Vanya makes a mental note to consider investing in a few air mattresses. The cats are somewhere, probably on Luther. Five sleeps for ten continuous hours between her and Ben

***

According to Dr. Stan, social pressure is the most effective of tools, even when the person involved has zero interest in following basic social norms. The problem is mainly that Five never emerges from his room long enough to attempt to get him to eat with them.

Out of desperation (and maybe a bit of her own interest) Vanya purchases a nicer coffee maker to replace the terrible and kind of broken one. Five literally cries when he sees it. Only a few tears escape and he swiftly wipes them away, but he’s thrilled. 

The coffee seems to do the trick. Five starts to come out of his room a few times a day in search of more caffeine. The effort to get him to eat something is a fine-tuned negotiation, the responsibility passed around between the three of them. They trade off. It goes like this:

“Good (morning/afternoon/evening), Five,” someone will say. “How’s the work?”

Five will abstractly grunt and shuffle to the coffee maker. 

Then, someone else will say, “want to join us for (insert meal or snack here)?”

Five will say, “No,” or if it’s early enough he will just shake his head.

Someone else takes over now, and will add, “we made extra” or “can you explain quantum physics again?” or even “we miss seeing you”. 

Five will look slightly distressed, slightly conflicted. He might try to leave, or say something to get them off his back.

Finally, the last person asks again. Then, and only then, will he come and sit with them. He only eats a little, but it’s more than usual. He’s closed off, but he doesn’t seem to hate their presence.

Improvement. That’s almost more than anyone can ask for.

***

Vanya is still working on finding a way to connect with Five. The distance between them still feels yawning, and nothing feels deep enough. It’s all surface-level.

Somehow, the best way to reach him comes from Luther, of all people.

They’ve been painting the cabin bit by bit over the last few weeks. Ben carefully tapes the area and measures how much paint they need, Luther can reach the higher parts none of them can, and Vanya fills in the gaps. The day they do Five’s room/work area, the walls are still free of writing. It’s also the day of Luther’s stroke of genius.

“It’s chalkboard paint. So you can write wherever you want.” Luther gestures weakly around. “Thought it might help. 

Five opens his mouth. Then he closes it. He does that several more times. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly at last. Vanya takes a hint and gently leads the other two out of the room, shutting the door.

***

“So.”

“So,” says Vanya. It’s training day. They’re outside on a muggy Thursday morning. 

“This is fun,” says Five, watching Ben practice walking around on his tentacles like Doctor Octopus. It doesn’t seem to be working. His tone of voice is not entirely unkind.

“It is,” she agrees. “Jump in whenever you like.” She twirls a leaf and a stick around their heads before releasing it to the ground. Five shortly pops across the clearing and back. 

“Lots of space,” he comments. 

“Will you stay with us?”

“What?” Five’s head whips around quickly. 

“Move in with us. We like having you here. You seem comfortable. We’ll leave you alone whenever you want and we’ll keep you company. No more time travel though.”

Five is speechless. He stands still, arms locked at his sides.

“We like having you around and we want you to stay. Please. Will you?” There’s a short pause.

“Yes,” he says shortly, scuffing his shoes in the dirt. He looks sort of embarrassed, but also pleased. Vanya bumps his shoulder with hers. 

Luther, now almost completely covered in dirt, is trying to extract himself from a particularly squelchy part of grass. Five blinks over to help him and only makes it worse. Ben careens into a tree. There’s a distinct warmth in her chest as she watches the chaos.

***

Vanya walks through the door after therapy and nearly trips over the pile of shoes. She can already see the shower schedule is again on the floor. She plays “SUGARTITS” for her turn in Scrabble.

“Hey,” says Luther stiffly, waving from the living room floor. A large Monopoly board is spread out.

“Where’d you get that?”

“It was addressed to me,” says Five, smugly holding several hotels and leveling a middle finger directly at Ben. He's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Come play so I can beat you too. This is a great game.” Ben begrudgingly throws a stack of game money across the board at him.

“Yeah,” says Vanya, snagging some water and heading out to join them. “Deal me in. And I better get one of the railroads, because what’s the point of not having at least one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at @thegirlwiththeglasses-3. I promise the next one won't take this long ;). Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Much love to you and yours, as always, stay healthy and well, whatever that looks like for you.


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